align by design
Illicit rooftop sunset birthday selfies are the best selfies
On my 28th birthday last December, I was fortunate enough to be on a hill with a telescope and two of my favorite people in the world. As the sun was setting on my corner of the Texas hill country, we got a glimpse of the conjunction between Jupiter and Saturn through a gap in the clouds.
It was uncharacteristically temperate for a late December evening— a fact that would stand in stark contrast to the ice storm that was to come two months later, devastating much of the landscape around me. We took out my dad’s big telescope and set it up next to our ATV in the cul-de-sac, which is the highest point near our house with a clear view to the West. My mom, dad, and I took turns squinting through the lens, trying to keep the telescope’s angle trained on the conjunction as the earth continued to spin subtly and imperceptibly on its axis. I realized I could hold my phone up to the eyepiece and capture some closeups (relatively speaking) of both the planets and the waxing moon, barely into its gibbous phase.
It was remarkable. It was the last day of the conjunction so the planets were already beginning to go their separate ways, but their proximity and size were still breathtaking. I could see rings of Saturn, giving its more-distant profile an oblong shape that was oriented perpendicularly to the plane of my horizon. Jupiter was bright like a jewel, its moons on either side of it almost symmetrically, like smaller diamonds on the band of an engagement ring. Our moon was blinding in its brilliancy when viewed through the telescope lens, wearing its craters proudly like battle scars (ok, I know that’s cheesy but it beats using “pockmarks” for that particular simile).
It was a very humbling reminder of how small we really are, relative to everything beyond the limits of our atmosphere. It’s a big universe out there, and how fortunate are we that we get to exist at just the right location and in just the right time to see two of our solar sisters cross paths almost perfectly?
These dramatic differences in scale inspire existential questions in me as much as anyone. Why am I here? What am I supposed to do while I’m here? How much impact can I really have when I am so small?
28 is not a significant birthday in any culture that I’m aware of. It’s like, “I’m in my late twenties, big deal! Who’s got the pitcher of margaritas?” And, unlike a classmate of mine who very well might be one of the first people to walk on Mars, I will probably not do anything particularly grand, impressive, or unique with my short time here.
But I’m still so grateful to have been born into such a time and place where I can do things like dance in a piece of cloth suspended from the ceiling (or a sailboat mast).
Where I can work from anywhere in the world with a wifi connection.
Where I can own property and build a beautiful life for myself in levels of luxury and freedom that are hitherto unprecedented in human history.
Where I can access the virtually limitless knowledge of others to continue learning and growing as a person.
~
I’ve always been very aware of how limited we are by time. Our lifespans barely register as blips on the cosmic timeline. The cultures on our world are complex, varied, and intricate, with many paths to pick from and flavors of lifestyles to choose from, each one with its own set of opportunity costs. I’ve wanted to be many things in this life, or at least I wanted the side effects that being those things would produce. I’ve pursued many of those paths far enough until I realized they weren’t what I signed up for, or that I was actually signing up for the wrong reasons (for example: wanting to be glamorous on a red carpet is not the right reason to become an actress, nor is craving acceptance from classmates a good reason for wanting to be Instagram famous).
But if I had an intrinsic, authentic desire to do something that complemented the path to achieving my greater goals, then I’d work it into my life.
One of the many dead-end turns I tried to take on my path was an MBA program for aspiring entrepreneurs here in Austin. The rejection letter was respectful and simple. It included a copy of an article written by one of the founders of the program about Stars and Steppingstones, or “Star vs. Path” as I’ve come to call it. It’s worth reading in full, but the TL;DR is this: pick a star to follow, and keep your eye trained on it as you traverse the nonlinear path that life invariably will be for you.
I’m the kind of person who wants to head towards multiple stars. I want the successful career, varied hobbies, vibrant social life, travel adventures, financial stability, marriage, and family. Not all of these are mutually compatible goals (at least, not all at the same time), but I believe with enough strategy they may all align along the path I’m continuously designing for myself.
Four years ago, I quit my job in corporate tech sales to learn how to code. The bootcamp was one of the most challenging things I ever did; I almost failed at it because I was distraught over a breakup and the loss of an entire friend group. But that choice (which entailed eight months of joblessness, four months of nonstop study, and completely resigning from the remains of my social life) led me to a rewarding and challenging career that I now enjoy, and one that supports my lifestyle.
Last February, I was sent home to quarantine as the pandemic ramped up worldwide. I was fortunate to never get the virus and only be minimally impacted by the economic havoc that it wreaked. Amid all the fear, chaos, and depression, there was also opportunity: to learn how to work from home. My progress was slow and nonlinear, but I practiced and honed my self-discipline enough to be able to get things done (admittedly, this is still a work in progress for me).
Last December (right before my birthday), I accepted a job at a promising startup that was fully remote and had team members spanning three continents. I also put a new-build condominium unit under contract with an estimated completion time of summer 2022.
Last month, I asked my manager if he’d be comfortable with me working from abroad in the fall, possibly joining a Romania office should our team there expand. He told me he was fine with me working from anywhere as long as I got my work done.
This August, I’m letting my lease expire, moving my belongings into a storage unit, situating Mila with a trusted friend/cat-sitter, and going to Europe for three months.
By keeping my eye trained on the stars of career, travel, and financial stability, I am now in a position to spend a year working remotely, seeing the world, and saving money for homeownership (more on this later).
Through hard work, failure, tears, mentors, friends, family, and brutal honesty— my stars aligned. Yours can, too.
Pick your star, and recognize that no matter where you are on your path, you are there for a reason. There are things to learn, patterns to release, and skills to grow in. Look to your star, but also look down so you don’t trip on the current challenge at hand. Look to your star, but keep your eye open for opportunities that may augment the skills you have with the ones you need to get where you’re going. Look to your star, but appreciate and acknowledge the ground under your feet. Find meaning and value in the process of traversing this terrain.
And, as you approach your star, take a look around— you might see other stars you hadn’t noticed before that you want to check out, too.
How can you position yourself so they align for you?
